


Home is an ode to an ending.

by yourphenomena



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Clay | Dream Beats TommyInnit to Death (Video Blogging RPF), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29904840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourphenomena/pseuds/yourphenomena
Summary: 'He had done this for them, for all them, for loyalty is a beacon of light, though optimistic - it is un-vividly shielded by doubt, a storm of failure constantly on the rise.'
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 8





	Home is an ode to an ending.

**Author's Note:**

> (CWs for death)
> 
> Angst time.

All Tommy could remember was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding in his chest, the emotion, the feeling. The feeling of being alone. The feeling of realization. Dream had lied to him. Now his body, lay on the ground, frigid and pitiful. The hands of time were slipping, causing time to slow, to stop - just for a brief moment, a sigh. He had done this for them, for all them, for loyalty is a beacon of light, though optimistic - it is un-vividly shielded by doubt, a storm of failure constantly on the rise. Loyalty is serving those who you love, loyalty is honesty, loyalty is fighting and Tommy was losing, Tommy was failing. This realization he had experienced, this knowledge he now held, lost. Tommy was lost. Tommy was losing. Tommy was gone.   
The light was fading, Tommy becoming blind, sheltered from horrors he could never face, sheltered from those he had loved. Tommy was unconditionally alone, living and breathing another man's solitude and discipline. In these moments, he would find nostalgia in the smallest of things - the way Wilbur sang, his music, for music was the key to one's heart, the medicine to his aching, his suffering - Techno, how he stood so tall despite the noise, the violence, the injustice, how he would find himself in the hopes of a brighter future - and Tubbo, his Tubbo. Perseverance before tranquility, strife before calm, silence before the storm - this was the reality of it all. Tommy lay on the obsidian floor, in pain, in suffering before a tide of numbness washing over him. He felt nothing. He was tired, finally able to rest.  
He couldn't feel a thing, see a thing or hear a thing - this bleakness he could get used to, this bleakness he could find a home in. Before he could settle, a strange sense of warmth engulfed him like an ocean tide, he didn't feel trapped at all - no, he felt at _home_.  
The sense was nostalgic, familiar. He knew why as a voice cried out to him - _'Tommy?'_ , it was Wilbur, his brother, his brother who became a tyrant, destroyed his home, was driven beyond insanity - and yet here he was, sounding so choked up, caught up on the thought that his _brother_ could be there too. Why, because Wilbur was dead. Tommy's eyes fluttered open slowly and stared at the taller man in front of him, nothing else in sight other than a hazy shade of black. The scene was strangely optimistic, patient as if time were waiting for something to come along. 'Welcome home, brother'.


End file.
